


Land of Sunshine

by RyojiHirako



Series: Sol Invictus [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Delve a bit more into Metamorphmagus experience because come on now, M/M, Metamorphmagus, NOT Dark Harry or Dark Trio, No Bashing of Characters, Possessive Tom Riddle, Sane Tom Riddle, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), Soul Bond, The world isn't so cut and dry as simple black and white, but here we are, dreamscape, wow I didn't see this Found Family coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 04:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30032985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyojiHirako/pseuds/RyojiHirako
Summary: Life with the Dursley's now was...odd.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Series: Sol Invictus [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767400
Comments: 5
Kudos: 124





	Land of Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the wait.
> 
> Real life has been what it has been, as everyone knows, given the state of the world right now.
> 
> But I hope this has been worth the wait!

Land of Sunshine

A Tom Riddle/Harry Potter fic

Sequel to _The Morning After._

Flashbacks in _Italics._

: : : : :

" _Dreams can do this?" Harry asks, astounded, as he continues to look around._

 _Never had a dream felt so like reality. The surroundings were unfamiliar, but things were not tinged with that slightly off state one would have, even when lucid dreaming. This felt_ _**real**._

" _Dreams can do many things." Tom says softly. He too is looking around, walking forward. "It is only that some may not have the ability to reach the depths."_

_He finally comes to stand next to Harry, though he hasn't looked at him again since Harry has first...arrived?_

" _They're primarily how the Uagadou School of Magic in Africa reaches the students that are to be admitted to the school," Tom continues, hands in his pockets, voice similar to the lecturing tone that Hermione would sometimes employ but not quite over the other side to it being boring. His voice was, as always, mesmerizing. "Employing Dream Messengers to leave a token of some sort to the chosen child."_

 _Even in profile Harry can see Tom's lips curve into a smile and his heart beats faster at it. It had not been long since he had last seen the older wizard, but the longing in Harry that had come as soon as Tom left had felt nearly crushing. He wasn't used to feeling so strongly, especially about another person. It had been disconcerting as well as...nice. To feel so much about someone, knowing that they too cared...that they_ **_cared_** _…_

" _Well...beats regular old Owl Post, that's for sure." Harry says._

_A pause._

" _Certainly." Tom says. "Though...to which you mean…"_

_Harry flushes, remembering Tom's words from not long before, how his finger felt upon Harry's lips, the lips the man had taken for his own again and again, kissing Harry with such hunger and desire that it left him feeling dizzy with it._

" _ **We cannot trust it, not with the Order watching you so closely**." __Tom had said, referring to Harry asking how they would contact one another after Tom left Privet Drive, saying how Owl Post would not be wise._ _" **No, I was thinking something more...intimate."**_

" _Well this Uagadou school sounds pretty interesting." Harry says, making his voice sound extra cheerful, eyes darting around to look at the room, not noticing Tom's eyes looking at him now, the depths darkening. "I mean Dream Messengers? If only we could do that to teachers when we didn't feel like getting up for class."_

_Tom lets out a rather undignified snort that would surely have astounded anyone else hearing it._

" _As if any of the students in Hogwarts could pull off such a thing." Tom scoffs. "So many are lazy in their studies."_

" _I'm sure you gave the Ravenclaw's a run for their money when you were in school."_

_Tom's quiet for a brief moment and Harry wonders if he's somehow said something wrong, when he realizes that he brought up Tom's school time. A time when Tom had gotten up to some not good things, even back then. He is trying to figure out what to say when Tom speaks up._

" _Well the Hat had thought a long time about putting me into Ravenclaw."_

_Harry turns to look at him, stunned. Had he just...spoken about something so personal, as easy as breathing, without sounding put out about having to open up further?_

" _Did it?" Harry breathes. He coughs a bit, ignoring the heat in his face. "I'd have said that you would have been named a Slytherin before the Hat had even gone on your head. Happened to Draco, practically."_

" _Mmm, well he_ _is_ _a Malfoy," Tom drawls. "I'd expect no less. I went to school with his grandfather, Abraxas. He was certainly a Malfoy_ ** _and_** _a Slytherin through and through."_

_Yet another revelation that Tom threw out so casually that Harry's head was getting dizzy with keeping up._

" _But you had a long time waiting?" Harry dares to press. Tom had been speaking so openly, after all. And even if he didn't deign to let Harry know any more, he didn't worry about what Tom's response would otherwise be._

_No censure, Tom had told him._

_What a wonder that he now lived in a world where not only did he no longer have fear of Tom Riddle but that he was_ **_Tom Riddle_** _to him. That they had come together-quite literally-just a short while ago, to...to…_

" _Not as long as some," Tom says, moving to walk in front of the empty fireplace. With a gesture it is instantly alight with cheery, roaring flames. "But enough to make me worry."_

_He grows quiet, pensive now, agitated and Harry doesn't like to see it on him. Not because of fear. The fear was gone now. What remained was the...desire for him to be happy._

**_That_** _thought was perhaps the most terrifying (and exhilarating) thing Harry had ever felt._

 _To hear that Tom could have the same kind of worries and thoughts like Harry did, it made it feel like the gulf between them, of age and power was lessened that much more, bringing them even closer to each other. That Tom could and_ **_did_** _feel so many emotions that many would expect him to be incapable of feeling…_

_Harry comes to stand beside him, watching the fire for a moment before looking up at Tom's profile._

" _I thought the same thing. I wondered if I would get sent back to the Dursleys. As if everything was only a dream," Harry admits. He had never told anyone else his fears when first coming into the Wizarding World. Not to this extent. And certainly not the fears that he had. "What if the Hat didn't Sort me? I was so ignorant to our world, so I didn't realize until after it was over that I wouldn't get sent back. I mean I'm still learning of course, but back then? I knew so little."_

" _Felt like being thrown into the lion's den." Tom says._

" _Yes."_

_Tom lets out a breath._

" _We continue to be so similar that it sometimes scares me." Tom finally says._

_Harry swallows against the lump in his throat. "You too?"_

" _Yes. But you had similar fears, you said? Did you also worry where you might end up?"_

" _You didn't want to go into Ravenclaw?"_

" _I would have liked it fine; it might have suited me better for the first few years. Certainly I would not have been harassed quite as much, I think. But I earned my position in Slytherin the hard way, which gained me all the respect I had so coveted for so long and found I no longer desired the same."_

_Yet more revelations to make Harry's head spin._

" _No it was more what you might expect. That I loathed to be put anywhere near Gryffindor; one train ride alone had grated my nerves in dealing with them. And Hufflepuff, well, a rather useless lot. So few options. Amusing then," Tom adds, a smile moving back to his face. "That I should be so bonded to a Gryffindor."_

" _Not as bad as you expected?" Harry jokes, despite his heart beating so rapidly in his chest. Could it though? This was still only a dream… things he manages to keep forgetting in the midst of all of this with Tom._

" _No." Tom says softly. "It has exceeded all expectations already."_

" _That's...good." He manages to say. "For me it was probably what_ ** _you_** _expect. I had heard only a little bit about the Houses before getting to the Sorting, but I had heard enough and had dealt with enough-dealt with people like Draco Malfoy-that the thought of Slytherin scared me. I was used to dealing with bullies growing up; my cousin Dudley, Dudley's group of cronies he said were 'friends', the Dursleys, in their own way...people like that. I didn't want to deal with that."_

" _So when the Hat picked you for Gryffindor, it relieved you."_

" _Yes. But," Harry admits. "It didn't happen immediately. Or even quickly. It thought awhile about where to put me. I argued with it."_

" _You argued with the Hat?" Tom says, sounding surprised._

"' _Not Slytherin', I told It." Harry says. "It thought Slytherin would be a good place for me. I said I didn't want to go there, so it put me in the other place it thought I would be best at."_

_Another pause._

" _It said you would be good in Slytherin?"_

" _Yes." Harry tells Tom._

_Tom was one of the very few people now who knew that Harry had nearly been put into the least liked House in Hogwarts (Slytherin had a notorious reputation, not even solely because of Tom, of having many Dark wizards and witches come from it more than any other House.)_

_After what felt like forever (though Harry had no way to know how time might pass in dreams), Tom_ **_finally_** _turns to look at him. The look in his eyes makes Harry's breath catch. He shivers when Tom's hand touches his face. It felt real. As real as the touches between them on Privet Drive had._

_But he does not speak again. He just looks at Harry, eyes darting all over him, as if trying to unravel secrets just by looking at him._

" _Would you have preferred that?" Harry asks._

 _Tom's eyes focus back on him, their dark brown depths already threatening to be drowned by the black, the intensity of the older man's eyes a seduction in its own right, even during the times when Tom wasn't_ **_trying_** _to seduce._

" _You wouldn't have." Tom says, finally stirring as if coming from deep thought. "Slytherin is the most cutthroat of all the Houses. Partly because it's in the natures of those in the House, generally, but also because it is expected of us."_

" _What do you mean?"_

_Tom goes back to stroking his face as he speaks, as if unable to stop himself from doing so._

" _Slytherin is the most reviled House, Harry. You know this. It has been that way for most of the history of the school. Yet no Headmaster or Headmistress has abolished it, despite many of them disliking those who come from it. People have always wondered why and have come up with their own reasoning."_

" _All the same," Tom continues. "A House it remains. A House_ ** _reviled_** _it remains. When all have negative thoughts of you, even before you have even spent your first whole night in a Castle full of wonders...how do you think that would make you feel?"_

_Harry...hadn't really thought about it that way._

_He had no love lost for most of Slytherin House. And a lot of his negative experiences had come from those who had come from said House. Ironic then, as Tom had eluded to with his comments before, that he would be so intrinsically linked to someone from the House that had brought the most grief to him._

" _Not that I am not saying that some might not deserve a bit thrown their way." Tom says dryly. "But for many, they are just children. Children can be cruel. But...they can be other things too, if ever given the chance."_

 _Tom looks away from him again suddenly, his hand leaving Harry's face. Something seemed to have touched a nerve in the older man in their conversation, the look on his face leaving something aching in Harry. If this was all an act, Tom was the greatest actor who had ever lived or ever_ **_would_** _have lived._

 _Except...he knows he isn't acting. He can_ **_feel_** _him, Tom. He can feel him even stronger than he had earlier, when they had been so entwined in Harry's bed. Maybe because they were sharing a dream? Could that make the Bond between them grow stronger during that time?_

 _He had no way to know, but what he_ **_did_** _know was...Tom was hurting._

 _He had opened himself up. If he had opened himself up so before, Harry was yet unaware of such a time, but even if he_ **_had_** _...all the same, he had been closed off for so long and yet here he was now, with Harry, even though some of it was obviously hurting him, he was still choosing to open up to him._

 _ **Trusting** _ _him._

" _Tom-" Harry starts._

" _But enough of that," Tom says, cutting Harry off. He turns back to Harry, his expression having moved back into a more neutral one. "Come."_

_He holds out a hand, gesturing Harry in much the same way he had when he had first arrived at 4 Privet Drive and had been in the midst of leading Harry up the stairs, to the bedroom…_

_Harry can feel his face flush again but he follows Tom willingly enough, wondering just what thing Tom might think of next for wherever else they were traveling but he is surprised to see more of the slightly rustic look continue, moving into a small, but cozy looking kitchen with a small table, chairs and...was that a wood smoke stove top?_

_Tom had a rather vivid imagination, though Harry probably shouldn't have been quite so surprised. Perhaps he had read such details in a book and wanted to recreate them? The thought of Tom doing such a simple pleasure as reading,_ **_relaxing_** _...it was quite a nice one, actually._

_Still, as he takes a seat, it's also...quite an odd experience._

_Who'd have ever imagined sitting down to tea with Lord Voldemort, after all?_

" _Do you have any preferences for your teas?" Tom inquires, as he grabs at a teapot that appears upon the table._

 _He was sitting. In a dream. About to have_ **_tea with Lord Voldemort._**

" _Harry?"_

_The sound of his name from Tom's lips jolts him back to awareness. He looks up to see Tom looking at him with something resembling concern, brows furrowed._

" _Oh! Sorry. Um," He says, shrugging a bit helplessly. "I don't drink too much tea. Never got the taste for a lot of it; the Dursleys always keep this nasty kind of tea that is_ ** _supposed_** _to be lemon, but I swear was just made by throwing random bits of tree together and-"_

_He stops. He was babbling, wasn't he? He probably seemed like just some sort of idiot right now, didn't he? Surely Tom was wondering just why he got bonded to such a-_

_His eyes widen when he sees the fond smile on Tom's face._

_His heart beats faster and glances quickly at the teapot, his mind instantly racing with thoughts of skin to skin, of_ **_heat,_** _of lips, of limbs entangling together as they blindly reached towards-_

" _What do you prefer then?" Tom asks, as if Harry isn't under a current existential crisis (could he not see it on his face? He_ ** _must_** _ **.**..right?) "It has been an age since I have been able to properly enjoy a good cup myself, but let it not be said that Lord Voldemort cannot be a gracious host, whenever he needs to be. Or, more importantly, when he _**_wants_** _to be."_

" _I'd...much rather know what kind of host Tom Riddle is like." Harry says quietly._

_Tom's face turns more solemn for a moment, dipping his head in acknowledgement._

" _Of course." Tom says. "But you must understand, Harry; I have been Lord Voldemort longer than I have been anything else. Even if the ideal person I had envisioned myself to be, that I wanted to become, had gotten warped over the years, unstable, I have still been Lord Voldemort longer than I have ever been Tom Riddle."_

" _Then…" Harry starts. He swallows a bit as his own daring as he reaches a hand forward, both of them letting out a breath as they touch skin to skin, the feeling more intense than the ghosting like touch Tom had done against Harry's face moments earlier. "...we can find out. T-Together."_

_Tom looks up from looking at their hands._

" _Together."_

 _Harry's hand trembles a bit as Tom picks it up, his hand entwining with Harry's, the simple act enough to make Harry want to cry from it. The simplicity, the_ **_intimacy._** _It was...too much. But it also felt like_ **_everything._**

" _Then tell me, Harry," Tom says, a teasing light coming into his eyes, playing against his lips as a smile comes to his face again. "The things that you like. And...we will find out the things that I like. Together."_

_: : : : :_

_In the end, Harry finally manages to say, shyly, under Tom's interested gaze, about his favorite blend of tea, a citrus blend of orange and peach. It was a drink of no real importance, other than Harry liked its flavor best and that it was probably the most popular drink that most of the students in the school liked, and yet Tom took everything Harry in, looking interested in everything, clearly listening to him and his mind not wandering._

_But he starts to feel_ **_his_** _mind wandering, just a bit, wondering. The last time he had seen Tom, not so long before, before Tom had had to leave, they had been, well, extremely intimate with one another. More intimate than Harry had ever been with anyone. Merlin, before now he hadn't even_ **_kissed_ **_or_ **_been_** _kissed._

 _The mere_ **_thought_** _of how Tom's hands had felt upon his skin, his lips...it's enough to make him have to hold back a shiver of want with severe difficulty. Tom's eyes turn a bit sharper now, looking at Harry closely and Harry can only wonder if Tom knows what he is thinking. Here, in this dream, could be a place of rules that Harry did not yet have the information about. Tom neither, perhaps. But if anyone could pick up on the nuances of something so different and_ **_unique,_** _it was Tom Riddle._

" _Harry?"_

" _Why haven't you…" Harry starts hoarsely. He clears his throat, taking a large sip of the tea which hadn't grown cold at all despite the time passed in their conversation (another plus then, of a dream such as this.)_

" _Why haven't I what?" Tom asks, his eyes full of heat, so full with it that even Harry, as oblivious in things as he can sometimes be, can see it so clearly._

 _It makes him wonder. Tom had to know Harry's thoughts, what he was trying to say, didn't he? But he was making Harry say it? Why? Couldn't he just pluck it from Harry's mind somehow, in this place? He wasn't sure exactly, but he felt like it was possible. In dreams, so people said,_ **_anything_** _was possible. And a dream for two such as them who were Bonded?_

_Bonded…_

_He looks back up at Tom, who sat waiting, if not exactly_ **_patiently,_** _then waiting with_ **_purpose._**

**_He wanted to hear things from Harry's own lips._ **

_The thought is a thrilling one. He wanted to know what Harry thought, felt. Wanted to hear it from Harry's lips so he knew for certainty that he meant them? Or that to speak them from lips rather than from thought, that they could be just as true as the thoughts in the head?_

" _Why haven't you kissed me?" Harry asks. Tom's eyes grow brighter, burning with an inner fire, though his expression does not otherwise change. "Why haven't you touched me again?"_

" _Do you want me to touch you?" Tom says in a soft whisper. He leans forward, just slightly, as if imparting a secret. "Do you want me to kiss you, Harry?"_

_He feels his face flush with heat but he manages to speak. "Yes."_

_Tom's eyes close._

_A moment later, his hand streaks outwards, leaving Harry to gasp as the table and its contents go flying, the loud thud thud of the teapot as it rolls across the stone flooring before it disappears, along with the spilled tea and the table. His eyes pop open and he gestures with a hand, making Harry gasp again as he gets pulled forward by an unseen force. Tom pushes him up against the nearest wall._

_Harry moans when Tom's hand touches his face, his neck, with the barest of a touch._

" _I have held myself back." Tom hisses. "But you persist."_

" _I...what?" Harry asks dazedly. The nearness of the other man, the feel of him, the heat, which felt just as real as it did outside of the dream was rather wonderful, if a bit distracting._

" _My want of you." Tom says, his voice lowering to a soft sound now, leaning in closer. "I did not wish to overwhelm you, but you make it hard to hold back."_

" _So don't." Harry says. Tom's eyes snap to look back at his. Harry manages to hold his gaze, despite the heat up his neck, that must still be in his face. "I want you too. So…"_

" _So?" Tom asks, his other hand touching the wall next to Harry, steadying himself in front of him, reminding Harry of the same position Tom had taken early in his bedroom, before he let himself touch Harry. When he_ ** _did_** _touch Harry._

" _Why do I have to be the one to say it?" Harry mutters, looking away._

_But Tom doesn't let him look away for long, using his hand to push at Harry's face gently, making him look back at him. The smile on his handsome face is enough to make his heart feel like it could stop._

" _Because I like hearing you speak." Tom teases. "The words upon your lips… 'I want you.' 'Touch me.'"_

_He moves his mouth to Harry's ear, kissing it softly, making him moan, before speaking again._

" _But if you want to hear my own words, dear one, then let it be said…" Tom trails off, kissing up Harry's neck before moving back to his ear. "That I want to devour every part of you. I want you to come in my mouth and in my hand. I want to come deep inside of your body. I want to taste the pleasure off of your lips. For you to know that you are_ ** _mine."_**

_The last word is said in a hiss, Parseltongue, before he captures Harry's lips with his own. Harry gasps against his mouth, which lets the older man's tongue delve in deep inside. He barely gets time to kiss back, before he feels Tom's hands, warm-so surprisingly warm-at his belt, pulling it off with a sudden quickness._

" _What do you-"_

" _Patience, dear one." purrs Tom, moving away from Harry's mouth, taking an interest in Harry's neck, kissing down it with something almost like reverence, each kiss put upon his skin with care. "Patience. We have some time yet."_

_He shivers, from Tom's touch, certainly, but also from his words._

" _But what to start with?" Tom asks, almost to himself._

 _He slots his body even closer up against Harry's, leaving Harry to look up at his handsome visage as his brown eyes turn back to look at him. He smiles at Harry with that utterly disarming smile and Harry can all but feel his heart beating roughly in his chest at the sight. The man_ _must_ _know what his smile was doing to Harry, what it could do, didn't he? He must._

" _There is something I've wanted to do." Tom says. He pauses._

" _But?" Harry asks, after Tom does not speak any further._

_He looks at Harry contemplatively for a moment, before his smile returns._

" _But perhaps you are not in quite the condition I imagined for it just yet…" He leans to put his mouth to Harry's ear. "I want you quivering for me, longing for every touch, to shiver wholly by the mere thought of the pleasure I can bring you."_

" _Tom." Harry breathes._

" _Yes. Just like that, Harry." Tom croons. "Let me."_

_: : : : :_

_Tom's version of 'let me' turned out to be opening up the front of Harry's pants with eager hands (despite being able to magic them away, from magic or dream, but had obviously wanted to do it manually instead), licking the palm of his hand while looking Harry right in the eyes and wrapping said hand around Harry's cock._

_He jerks in surprise, letting out a shocked moan._

" _Tom-"_

" _Shh."_

_He silences Harry very effectively by kissing him again._

_It wasn't fair that Tom was so efficient of a kisser, Harry thought dimly, his limbs trembling while he tried to hold back from jerking himself off-and what a thought_ **_that_** _was-in Tom's grip._

_Harry reluctantly pulls away from Tom's lips. "Tom, wait."_

_He almost thinks Tom is simply going to just kiss him again but something in Harry's tone or expression must change his mind, because he is just shy of kissing Harry again and his hand has stopped its movements, though he hasn't removed it._

" _What is it?" Tom asks, brows furrowed. His expression clears and he straightens up a bit. "If this is too much for you, I will-"_

" _No!" Harry exclaims. Tom raises a brow, making Harry flush. "No. I just…"_

_His nerves leave him now as insecurities, things he had held tightly to his own chest, start to unfurl, just a bit. He swallows and looks away._

" _Surely there are things you'd see as more important for you to be doing." He says hoarsely._

_Queerly, he feels like crying just then. Overwhelming. All of this. So soon...it was so overwhelming._

_Tom's eyes look at him closely for a long, solemn moment, before a thumb rubs under his eye, wiping at a tear that Harry hadn't even been aware that had been there._

" _Look at you." Tom whispers. "All of this...for me? You seem to have misunderstood something, Harry. That there could be something more important than developing this bond that we share all the further...there is nothing more important."_

_He wipes at his other eye._

" _I told you, just before, didn't I? I shall let nothing come between this. That you should want this...that you should want_ ** _me_ _…"_**

_He pauses again._

" _There is much between us that needs to be addressed, I know." Tom says. "I have not forgotten any of it, as I know you have not. But for now, let me…"_

_Harry all but collapses into the kiss that Tom gives him, more urgent now against Harry's lips, his hands more urgent as they quickly work Harry's erection back to fullness._

" _Let yourself enjoy the sensations." Tom says against his lips. "Does it feel good?"_

_It takes Harry a moment to remember, as wrapped up in the renewed building pleasure as he is, that Tom is as new to any of this...intimacy...as Harry is._

" _Yes." He whispers. "I-I like how you make me feel. You feel good against me."_

_Tom laughs against his mouth, breathlessly, kissing him deeply for a moment before setting his head down onto Harry's shoulder._

" _Dear one," Tom murmurs. "You don't really know your own power, do you?"_

_Harry doesn't get to ask what he means exactly by that, as a few more strokes from Tom-more confident now-has his knees nearly buckled underneath the building pleasure. Pleasure which was threatening to spill forth._

" _I'm-" He gasps. "Oh god. Tom. I-"_

_He chokes off, eyes nearly closing as he climaxes, but a sudden hand on his chin has him looking Tom directly in the eyes, body shaking with pleasure._

" _Look at you." Tom whispers._

_He moans, finally able to close his eyes once Tom moves his hand away. He slumps up against the wall, held in place only by Tom and his proximity as he felt sure he would collapse to the floor otherwise. After a moment his eyes open slowly and he is greeted with the sight of Tom Riddle staring down at his own hand, which was coated with Harry's come._

_He flushes again but can't find it in himself to look away, his cock even stirring again as Tom licks at the come on his hand, his eyes closing in obvious pleasure._

" _Everything you could have hoped for?" He tries to say in a joking tone, but his voice falters when Tom's eyes lock back onto him, his mouth in the midst of cleaning the rest of Harry's pleasure from his hand._

_He looks at Harry licking away the last of the come, before leaning in and kissing him, letting him taste himself upon Tom's tongue._

" _More." Tom breathes._

_: : : : :_

That had been the first night of shared dreams, but certainly not the last; he shares dreams with Tom every night after that over the next couple of weeks. Dreams that were often filled with more of the sly banter from Tom which made Harry flush, of the touches of his hands which brought him to pleasure (sometimes Tom would bring them both at the same time or sometimes he would make his own pleasure after he brought Harry over. But oftentimes he would sate Harry only, watching him as if transfixed.)

But the dreams weren't _only_ that (though even that, sharing such a thing through a dream, would certainly have been more than Harry had ever experienced or thought _possible_ to experience.)

A few days before, Harry had somehow found himself lying head first in Tom's lap (he still wasn't quite sure how that had happened. There had been some buttons flying a short time earlier and Tom's hands doing something wickedly indecent and it had been rather hard to think clearly after that) and Tom pulls something in front of his face.

A book.

_He squints at it for a moment, trying to clear his head as he was still feeling the aftershocks of pleasure of Tom's touch. But Tom seemed keen on Harry looking at whatever it was he had conjured (by personal magic or from the dream, Harry still wasn't sure which; Tom had proven equally talented at both in the Dreamscape, even if the shared dreams were a new thing) so he grabbed at it._

_The book was a matte black, nearly grey from how faded with age it was and had no title._

" _If this doesn't have the stamp of Tom Marvolo Riddle on the back, I might be disappointed." He jokes._

_Tom looks down at him, with an eyebrow raised, but his eyes are filled with amusement._

" _What does it say to you?" Tom asks._

_Harry glances back at it again, but it remains blank._

" _Is it...supposed to say something?" Harry asks, a bit nervously._

_It's quiet for a moment. Tom's eyes soften, just so, and he leans down, kissing Harry, grabbing the book from his hands._

" _It's fine if it doesn't." Tom reassures him, as he pulls back. He looks contemplative. "Perhaps it's best that it does not…"_

" _Tom?"_

_The older man seems to come back to himself, his expression turning back to how it had been moments before, the small smile playing back at the corner of his lips. The book in his hand disappears and in its place appears another book. Unlike the previous one, he can see letters on this one._

_Once more Tom hands the book over and once more Harry takes it (and later he'll think on this moment, on the casual nature between them like this, so soon...and how much it truly means.)_

_The cover is also black, though much more new looking, with slightly raised golden letters on the cover. The book was apparently called "The Complete and Thorough Guide of Wizarding Etiquette (and Guidelines)"_

_He glances up at Tom, whose smile widens into a smirk._

" _It is...a bit of a dry read," Tom says, with an elegant shrug. "But it would suit you well. I too, as you know, wasn't raised around any sort of wizarding community and I'm sure you've noticed how differently things are between Muggle society and Wizarding society."_

_Harry glances at him then back at the book. He...hadn't said that in any sort of condescending way. He had half expected it, given that Tom had been talking about Muggles and such, which he had no fondness of (to put it mildly) but he hadn't. He had been matter of fact and to the point, but didn't sound overly disgusted. Huh._

" _It's something expected of many coming into our world. But especially those who show promise. Or those who are, or become, well known. And you, dear one, are extremely well known."_

_The name, so easily said from Tom's lips, is enough to make his heart beat quicker in excitement, though he doesn't fail to realize the seriousness of what else he was saying._

" _Not something I ever wanted." Harry says wryly. "I'm not the one who created the legend of 'The Boy Who Lived'."_

_It's quiet again and it takes Harry a moment to really realize just what he had said...and who he had said it to. Tom looks down at him, solemnly._

" _Indeed." Tom says quietly. He strokes at Harry's hair after a hesitant moment, as if asking permission. "I forget that not all want to be in the spotlight."_

" _You've taken to it pretty well." Harry says, almost like an olive branch._

_He had nothing to apologize for of course, but all the same...things were precarious yet. They had yet to broach That Subject in earnest. It would happen, he knew, but it was almost like both of them kept putting it off so they could keep this closeness, afraid that it would hurt the tentative bonds they were forming together._

" _I have my moments." Tom says, in a bit of amusement. He continues to stroke Harry's head, making his eyes flutter closed from the touch. It felt good. "I have always picked and chosen the times to."_

" _Because you didn't want to let anyone in." Harry says, without thinking. "You wanted to keep a distance from everyone."_

_Tom's hand stills._

" _Yes." Tom replies in return, after a moment. "How did you realize?"_

" _I...saw you, before. A memory of you." Harry says, a bit embarrassed, more than he was worried, about admitting such a thing to Tom. Perhaps it was the environment, or the closeness they had gained the past little while. "During the time the Chamber of Secrets was first opened."_

" _Ah. I see."_

_Harry opens his eyes back up and sees Tom looking at him, waiting._

" _Um. You were overlooking some things and Dumbledore talked to you. Was eyeing you rather suspiciously."_

_Tom snorts. "You would have to be a bit more descriptive than that; the old man has always looked at me suspiciously."_

" _Yeah?"_

" _But for now," Tom says, in lieu of speaking on it further. "Start looking at the book. It will be a good subject to pursue."_

_Harry groans. "Do I have to?"_

" _Perhaps I have spoiled you so already?"_

_Harry lets out an oof as Tom disappears, making him fall back onto the floor. The older man reappears in the doorway, with yet another book in his hand, this one was different from the other two; Harry recognized this one right away._

" _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five…" Wait, there were_ ** _two_** _books in Tom's hands now. "_ ** _And_** _Six?"_

" _What better time than now? You can retain more information and not be exhausted from extra study." Tom says._

_Which was true, actually. After that first night, upon waking, Harry realized he felt refreshed, as if it had been a normal eight hours of sleep, so it appeared that their shared dream state did not tax either of their magicks or body. And Harry did also indeed remember everything that happened in the dreams each night._

" _Much rather be doing something else." Harry mutters._

_He lets out a sudden yelp as he gets pulled over to Tom, landing against his chest. Tom looks down at him with an unimpressed eyebrow._

" _Surely it should not be so difficult," Tom says, leaning down, eyes gleaming. "Those who do well are sure to get rewarded."_

_: : : : :_

Life with the Dursleys now was...odd.

He had grown up used to being mistreated and neglected and while that was a horrible thing and something he obviously did not prefer, it was still something he was getting used to in that he...pretty much had free reign in the house now.

It wasn't a position he abused, of course, but now he could sit in Aunt Petunia's living room and watch the telly if it suited him (and not be berated by any of the others) or could grab a snack out of the kitchen without a hand trying to fly his way for daring to want something.

The house was much quieter as a result, which had been severely off putting at first. The Dursleys still talked amongst themselves, did the usual things with neighbors or their jobs (Uncle Vernon still did his job at Grunnings as diligently as he always did) and everything else.

If not for how things were inside of the home, then you wouldn't think anything amiss. Tom's magic had held true and without any flaw he could see. Any potential Order members watching the house would see the Dursleys as they normally were when they were outside and even if they looked inside, he doubted they'd see anything that would set their suspicions off either.

Because while Harry had never been cared for _well_ by the Dursleys, no older witches and wizards who could potentially know about Harry's family life (or lack thereof) ever commented upon it. Like Dumbledore. It brought fresh memories back up to Harry of that day, that first day (the only day thus far) that he and Tom had shared in person, when Tom had forced Harry to see truths he hadn't at the time wanted to see.

Because certainly how could Dumbledore _not_ have an idea of how Harry lived with the Dursleys? Did he think that because it only went _so_ far, that Harry was still alive and relatively well that it made it okay? How much did the need to defeat Lord Voldemort outweigh anything else?

It was things that Harry hadn't really given that much deep thought about until now, because once Tom spoke it into the world, it was something that couldn't be unheard. While Harry did not think Dumbledore was secretly malicious, nor did he think Tom did it as a tactic to turn Harry against Dumbledore, it was still uncomfortable because it was that realization that no one should be put upon a pedestal, or anything pedestal adjacent.

Harry hadn't even realized he had put Dumbledore as high in his mind as he had until that moment. Sure, he had thought, like most of their world thought, that Dumbledore was the greatest wizard out there, but he hadn't realized he had idealized him so much. Dumbledore wasn't infallible. No one was. And that was something he had learned the hard way growing up, both in the Muggle world and now in the Wizarding World as well.

Realizing these hard truths both made him want to talk to Dumbledore more and to stay further away. The man had a lot of insight and sometimes he shared that insight but he was good at keeping people at bay as well. Even though Harry was smack dab in the middle of the Order and the Death Eaters, Dumbledore, as well as the other adults of the Order, still tended to treat him like a child.

He wasn't an adult yet, but he was certainly old enough to be given _some_ respect. Or...was that egotistical of him to expect? He didn't like the shackles of The Boy Who Lived, but was he using that as a means to be catered to or listened to? But...no, he didn't think so. The only time that title ever came up was in jest with Tom.

Tom listened to him like...like an equal. At least it felt that way to Harry. Even though the man was older in years, experience, and power, he, of all people, never acted like he was Harry's _better._ The irony of that given how things...things were…

Tom…

That was the big reason why Harry _didn't_ want to see Dumbledore. To say things were complicated was so unbelievably an _understatement_ that even the _word_ understatement was not a strong enough word for it.

It was probably why the both of them, he and Tom, had, by an almost silent agreement, didn't speak about certain matters (or speak of them in great detail) though he knew that couldn't last forever (nor did he want it to.)

It would eventually come up and they'd have to confront it. But what that meant...Harry didn't have any idea. And while he could never, and would never, become a Death Eater, he also couldn't be what the Order most likely wanted him to be either. Not after _everything._

That was another thing...he didn't even _know_ about the Order of the Phoenix until Tom had mentioned their name upon their first meeting at Privet Drive (and subsequently told Harry in their dreams their full name and what he knew about them.)

An Order formed by Albus Dumbledore to combat Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, something to stand in direct opposition to them. Something which, on the surface, was a good thing to many, but as with anything...there were layers and gradients of grey with everything.

"You have some post." The voice of Aunt Petunia says, knocking Harry out of his thoughts with a jolt.

He looks up from where he sat at the kitchen table, having long forgotten about his lunch as she stands there, a not quite blank look on her face, an envelope in her hands.

"Oh." Harry says. "Er...thanks."

He takes the envelope from her and she heads back into the living room where she and Uncle Vernon had been watching a program of some sort. He looks at the envelope, which a careful hand has written his name and address on. He can think of the amount of times he's gotten mail the Muggle way on one hand.

He almost thinks it's from the Weasleys, but, unlike the last envelope that came to Privet Drive for him (to ask permission from the Dursleys so he could see the Quidditch World Cup), this one is not covered in stamps (unless, of course, they realized this time they didn't need so many this time?)

The handwriting doesn't look like Mrs. Weasley's though, nor her husbands, or any of the other Weasley's handwriting he knows.

It _does,_ however, bear a familiar handwriting, after he looks at it closer a second time:

_\- I know the last few letters sent haven't been the most encouraging and I know you had to be unhappy. Merlin, I can't tell you how many pieces of parchment I scrapped before cobbling this letter together, pup, let me tell you. I've never been the letter writing sort. It's why I try and keep things simple and to the point. But now I'm acting in the capacity as your godfather and that's Important, with a capital I (see, even put the capital in myself!)_

_There is a lot that's going on, which I know you've been wanting to know about. That's the main point of this letter; and really, if I ramble any further Moony might bite me. Well, alright, we both know he never would. But he'd look at me extremely disapprovingly and that's even worse. You haven't felt the full bite (see what I did there?) of Moony's anger-and thank Merlin for that!_

_Wanted to send it by Owl Post, this letter, but figured I'd go about it the Muggle way to try and make things a bit easier on you when it comes to the Dursleys. Plus it lets me stretch my letter writing muscles. Who knows, maybe one day, a trait like that will come in handy._

_But I'm trailing off again and Moony is giving me That Look, so let's do this right._

_This letter is a formal ask to the current Guardians of one H. Potter, asking permission to allow him to stay with his godfather, S. Black, for the rest of the summer. And to also be further assured that he will be seen off to school safely by summer's end._

_Give that bit to the Dursley's will you? We figured a bit of formality might go a long way. That's the hope, anyhow. Regardless, there are still plans to come get you. Not me, as much as I want to (if I tried, I think Moony might_ _**really** _ _bite me!)_

_That being said, an answer will come quicker if you send it by Owl Post rather than Muggle post, so try and send it that way._

_Keep your head down and keep safe until I see you again._

_Sirius -_

He stares down at the parchment for a long time, a lot of feelings twisting in him at that is happiness. Sirius wanted Harry to stay with him for the rest of the summer? With that came surprise tinged with a bit of fear. Surprise because Sirius seemed to be pretty (no pun intended) serious about him staying, which meant that Sirius had somewhere to _stay._

For as long as he had known Sirius, the older wizard had been on the run, not staying in one place for very long due to his (however incorrect) status as a fugitive. Clearly that had changed. Enough, even, to where he could afford to have Harry around for an extended period of time as well as _himself_ staying around somewhere for an extended period of time.

The fear came from the unknown. Not of where Sirius might be (and where he wanted Harry to also stay) of course; he trusted Sirius completely. No the fear came from this new, tentative, thing, this bond, with Tom and how that might be affected.

But Sirius expected an answer-and all signs of course would point to Harry saying yes. After all, those who knew _anything_ about Harry's home life, however small, knew he would never choose to stay with the Dursleys willingly.

He leaves the kitchen and makes his way to the living room. Almost as one, the heads of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia look up in his direction. Still unnerving, though he was nearly used to it by now.

"I was asked to stay with my godfather for the rest of the summer." Harry tells them. "I'm going to send him a response in the affirmative now."

They both nod.

"Alright, whatever you think is best." Aunt Petunia says vaguely.

Her and Vernon turn back to the program they were watching, talking a bit more animatedly now. He heads out and up the stairs to his room. Hedwig gives him a soft hoot where she sat perched on the top of her cage. She had gotten a lot of flying done this summer from all the letters he had sent to his friends and their letters in return, but she had seemed proud of being of such use (though he of course made sure not to push her too hard if she ever seemed tired.)

He gives her a quick pet, accepting her nip of affection with a smile, before sitting down, pulling out his ink and quill. Another plus of the Dursley's...sudden change of heart...was in being able to do his studying and the like without their derision. While he didn't think he'd give Hermione a run for her money when it came to studying just yet, he could certainly say he had never enjoyed studying so much until now.

It reminded him all too keenly now of the Dreamspace with Tom, with Tom's bright eyes and encouraging hands, whispering words against his ear, telling him how smart he was, how good it was to see him blossoming just so, that wasn't magic _beautiful?_

" _Feel it inside of you, Harry." Tom whispers behind him, holding him close, his breath against his neck, making him shudder. "Feel that spark. Feel it course through your body. That is magic. That is the sum of everything. Feel it. Feel…"_

He flushes, trying to shake his head of his thoughts (though it didn't help that he was sat on his bed and the bed would forever hold great memories now. A Tom Riddle shuddering in pleasure above him as-)

He stares down at the parchment for a few moments, determined, and writes down a quick reply.

\- _Wouldn't miss it for the world. Feel free to send your reply by Owl Post. Think they're just as happy to see me out of the house. Can't wait._

_Harry -_

: : : : :

It didn't take long to receive a reply back, which was quick and to the point, even for Sirius, telling him to get ready as soon as possible. He had expected it to be soon, maybe the next day or two, but a knock on the door only a few hours later into the afternoon turned that thought on its head.

He's scrambling for the door and is surprised greatly to see Remus Lupin standing there.

"Harry," Professor Lupin says, a smile blooming on his tired face, bringing some life into it. "I hope our arrival didn't startle you too much. We-"

"Yeah, yeah Lupin," A gruff voice behind the wizard says. "You can chatter on all you like about it _after_ we get inside away from prying eyes."

"I'm sure we aren't to be attacked by the nearest dustbin." A dark skinned man eyes stern and focused, his voice dry. "But we will be sure to be extra vigilant, Alastor."

"I think we are as safe here as anywhere else at the moment," Lupin says but he walks inside anyway, with a few people behind him following. His focus comes back upon Harry. "We would have sent an Owl ahead of us, but-"

"We were already on the way." A young woman, with shockingly pink hair says, coming to stand next to Lupin.

She smiles at Harry and Harry is struck instantly with how she smiles at him. Perhaps it was a combination of having been in the spotlight of the wizarding world for a few years now as well as the lessons in manner and the like he had been taking with Tom, but he can see the sincerity of her smile.

Not the 'It's the Boy Who Lived!' kind of smile that he had gotten used to seeing on some people's faces (if not their outright excitement, like he was something to ogle at like he was a zoo animal or something) but the 'It's genuinely nice to meet you!' kind of smile. It was a nice difference.

"We are still on a bit of a schedule." The stern looking man says to the girl.

"Right, right." She says airily, before locking arms with Harry. "We should get a move on. You don't mind, do you Harry? Can I call you Harry?"

She had the energy that anyone would envy, even the very young, though it wasn't annoying as much as it was bemusing to watch. He nods, vaguely wondering what Tom would think of Harry being locked arm in arm with someone else, though it wasn't anything romantic.

He nods and she beams further. "Great! Let's hurry and get your things then before the rest of the old guard gets any more ants in their pants." She glances back at the others.

"Right," Lupin says, with a faint smile. "You already know Alastor Moody. But this is Kingsley Shacklebolt," pointing at the dark skinned man "and this is-"

"Tonks." The girl says. " _Just_ Tonks. Great! Now we're all introduced. We'll be right back."

Which leaves a bemused Harry to lead her to his bedroom, hurrying to start picking up some books.

"You don't need to rush, Harry." Tonks says, moving to open his trunk and start helping him put things inside.

"But you said-"

"Yeah, yeah but that's mostly just to placate Moody, you know?" She says, with a smirk. "He's a strong wizard, but I don't know if you noticed, but he's a bit paranoid. Last year didn't help with that, I'm sure…"

"Yeah…" It was a bit odd, seeing Moody, considering he had never _actually_ taught Harry or the rest of his class, but it also went to show the skill and brilliance of Barty Crouch jr, who had, by all Harry could see, impersonated Moody _perfectly,_ down to even the style of teaching Moody would have employed. "But I guess he can't be an all bad sort, given he works with Dumbledore."

"Mm." Tonks makes a non-committal noise in her throat, idly putting more into his trunk. Hedwig was watching the both of them keenly, but she didn't seem bothered by Tonks' presence.

"Thank you, by the way." He shuffles a bit, feeling a bit awkward, especially as she glances over at him, purple eyebrows raised (wait...hadn't they been pink?) "You don't know me, but you're helping me. And so many of you coming here just to get me…"

"Oh wow, Remus wasn't exaggerating about you."

"Huh? I…"

He's startled as she comes over and envelops him in a quick hug. She pulls back, a bit of a bemused look on her face.

"Sorry," She tells him. "My mum keeps telling me I need to act more stern. ' _You are an_ **Auror** , _Nymphadora! Not a-a telly salesman!'_ Then I have to tell her that you don't really see any door-to-door salesmen anymore. She's learned a lot of Muggle things from my dad, but…"

She shrugs.

He wasn't sure how to parse exactly what she had said, but still gamely speaks anyway.

"Nymphadora?" He offers.

She snorts. "Now surely you can see why I'd prefer to be called by my surname, yeah? _Nymphadora._ Even in Wizarding circles, it's an odd name. Mix that with being a Metamorphmagus and well."

She gives a helpless little shrug and goes back to throwing things into his chest.

"Metamorphmagus?" It was a mouthful of a word he hadn't heard of-he had already learned a few things from his time in the Dreamscape with Tom, but that wasn't a subject they had talked about yet.

"Aunt and Uncle didn't talk to you about these things, I take it?" She asks. He likes her. She was funny and obviously not afraid to speak her mind, nor did she act deferential to Harry because of his 'status' as The Boy Who Lived. It was extremely refreshing.

"Not so much." He admits dryly. "Not exactly their favorite cup of tea."

"Is that right? There's a few folks like that, even amongst Muggleborn families that grew up around witches and wizards. You'd be surprised. Anyway. Metamorphmagi are people who are born with the ability to change their bodies at will. Not exactly easy to master when you're young (and let's not even _mention_ how things go during puberty…) but a very useful innate skill to have, especially for those like me who went into becoming an Auror."

She demonstrates what she means seconds later, as her hair visibly changes from a short pink to a long, almost neon blonde, with her nose elongating Pinocchio like before becoming something more usual and mundane. She smiles at him.

"You see? Dead useful; I didn't have to do a _bit_ of studying for my _Concealment and Disguise_ Auror exam at all!"

: : : : :

He glances at Tonks as they finish up packing, with him taking Hedwig in her cage (after Tonks told him she'd take care of his trunk, shrinking it with her wand and putting it carefully in a bag she said was a Mokeskin Bag, a bag that could hold items that only the owner could retrieve.)

"Super useful during missions, let me tell you," She says, before handing it-and ownership of it-to Harry.

They're both greeted moments later by the tired, if happy, face of Lupin and the gruff face of Moody.

"Where's Kingsley?" Tonks asks Lupin.

"Dumbledore called. Nothing too serious, I don't think," Lupin says to Harry, as if wanting to reassure him. "We're often called for a few things. So! Everything put to rights then?"

Harry nods and Lupin's smile widens a bit, eyes crinkling at their corners as he does so.

"Wonderful. Well we should be on our way then."

"How are we getting to Padfoot then?" Harry asks.

"Oh that!" Tonks says. Harry turns to look at her. She smiles, waving a broom. "Fancy a ride through London?"

: : : : :

The feeling of a _Disillusion_ spell felt rather cold as it went over Harry, a spell designed not to make someone invisible but to misdirect the eye. It was generally the most reliable method, so said Lupin as they went flying out of the neighborhood and quickly far away (with Harry having to hold back only a little on his _Firebolt_ as the rest of them were flying very capable _Nimbus')_

Floo had been out of the question as they hadn't gotten the permission from the Ministry (the fairly disastrous turn of Floo at the Dursley's must have gotten through the rounds through the Ministry) and Muggle transportation, while fairly reliable, was much more time consuming and therefore potentially less safe (and while Harry knew he was safe from Tom-though of course no one _else_ did-the question of the Death Eaters made it make sense to him while they'd go for a quicker option to get him to...wherever they were getting him to.)

It had been awhile since he had been able to fly and the joy that he always felt at doing so was only heightened by the fact of being able to see his Godfather who he was glad seemed to be doing well (especially if they were going through the trouble to get an escort to bring him there!)

He wasn't sure of their destination as none of them talked about it (Moody in particular kept muttering about stuff like wand safety) but eventually they reached...well in the middle of London in what looked like an area that was home to Muggles.

"Um." He starts hesitantly, after they all land, looking around.

"Right in the middle of Muggles, I know!" Tonks says, coming to stand besides Harry, her hair now a different shape and different shade of pink, it's shape not out of whack as much as Harry's was from the wind they had had to deal with, which Harry found very smart (at least there seemed to be a few pluses to being a Metamorphmagus.)

"He can't see it, Tonks." Lupin says gently.

"Oh shit, you're...oh wait sorry I probably shouldn't swear. My mother keeps on telling me about that too _'What kind of example would you be as an Auror if you kept swearing like a sailor, Nymphadora!'_ Forgot you couldn't see it yet, sorry Harry."

"See what?"

"Here." Moody says, stomping over and thrusting a piece of paper in front of Harry. "Read quickly and memorize it."

_-The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, in London.-_

Now that he thought about it, he had thought it weird that there had been up to number eleven on the houses, then thirteen but not twel-oh.

As if by magic (which it certainly was!) there was now a large house where his eyes had just passed over before, with a large number _twelve_ on it.

: : : : :

The house screamed a few things (both figuratively-and then literally right after.) The silver serpent door knocker and the darker colors and more gothic look to the house and its interior, as they make their way inside, with victorian style dark couches and chairs, screamed both _Slytherin._

And then there was the portrait of a woman, with long dark hair and a striking resemblance to Sirius, who was screaming, literally.

"Blood traitors and filth! What have you done to my beautiful ancestral-"

"Oh fuck off, you old bat."

Harry's eyes widen and Sirius' face instantly lights up to a grin when he sees Harry and the rest of them there and he barely has time to squeak out a _"Hi Sirius!"_ as Sirius grabs him up in a great big old bearhug.

"Let the poor boy breathe, Sirius!" Lupin says, though his tone is amused.

He lets out a breath and Sirius laughs, ruffling his head.

"Sorry, Harry. It's just so good to see you."

And Sirius looked just as good as well. He was still a bit on the thin side, but he clearly had been eating well and doing better. He was much more cleaned up and not so gaunt, which Harry was thankful to see and the look in his eyes was already much less haunted than it had been the last time Harry had seen him.

"I'm glad you're okay." He tells Sirius. "What-"

The lady in the portrait takes that moment to start screaming again. Tonks rolls her eyes and pats Sirius on the shoulder as he starts to make a movement back to the living area.

"I got it this time." Tonks says. "Go ahead and keep catching up."

She heads in and that seems to be almost an unspoken signal for the others to move, because Lupin heads towards that way with her, after giving a nod to Sirius and Harry, and Moody makes his way back out of the house, giving the two of them a glare with both his eyes and muttering something else about safety before leaving, leaving the two of them standing there in the hallway.

Sirius shakes himself a bit and jerks his head towards a set of stairs.

"Here, I can show you your room and we can talk some more if you want?"

: : : : :

After pointing out some of the rooms of the rather large home (it looked much bigger on the inside than it did on the outside, kind of like a TARDIS in Doctor Who. Huh. Maybe some of the people who worked on that show were wizards or witches and wanted to cheekily throw magic in Muggles faces without them realizing it? A thought for another day) and apologizing for the dustiness and the like of a lot of the house.

"Been slowing cleaning through it with Remus and others' help, when they can, but it's still a lot of fucking house. Kreacher isn't helping by hoarding away shit we've been trying to get rid of either."

"Kreacher?"

"House elf. Mine, I guess." Sirius says, disgusting, snorting and shaking his head. "Since this rag and bones place is technically mine too."

"This, Harry," Sirius says, waving a surprisingly elegant hand around. "Is the Black family home."

And he just confirms that all the more when he takes Harry to another room, where a very large tapestry sat on one of the walls, with a large tree with many, many branches that moved here and there on it.

Harry walks up to it, after looking over to Sirius who nods, not quite touching it, but his hand tracks and follows some of the branches.

"These burn spots…"

"Ah, yes. Those who brought 'shame' to the family, for various reasons-like being decent human beings, probably," Sirius says with a chuckle, coming to stand next to him. "Though I'm also not there, so maybe there goes _that_ theory…"

"What happened?"

"Me and my family never got on." Sirius says with a shrug. "I was never the _respectable_ pureblood they wanted for a son, especially for the firstborn. They had all these expectations and demands of me. That alone was annoying, to be sure, but it was their _ideals_ that disgusted me. And I guess they were equally disgusted with me in return. I mean I was the first Black to not be a Slytherin-and to be a _Gryffindor_ to boot? A shame, in their eyes."

He seems a bit more lost in thought now, Sirius, his hand trailing along a long branch of the tapestry tree, though Harry wonders if he even is paying attention to the names on it.

"So I took off at sixteen and never came back here, until now." He adds with a bit of disgust in his voice. "Never ever planned to come back, but, well, things are sometimes out of our control, huh?"

"Where did you go?" Harry asks him, taking a seat on one of the chairs in the room. The room was fairly bare, as it seemed like it had been cleaned recently, but there were at least a couple of comfortable enough chairs left to sit on.

Sirius shrugs and takes the other seat.

"Your dad's place. Your grandparents took me in, treated me like another son, really. Never knew that kind of closeness until then," He says wistfully. "But I didn't want to burden them, so when I became of age, I took some of the money I had gotten from my Great Uncle Alphard-there he is, also burned off, probably because he helped me-and got myself a little flat. Flea and Euphe always told me off if I ever missed Sunday dinners at their house though."

He feels his heart twinge with enviness, of people he had never been able to know.

"Were they...uh," He says, a bit hesitant. "Were they also gone because of-of Voldemort?"

It hurt to think about. There was still so much unresolved between him and Tom, for all that they had connected in a way that seemed unfathomable in many ways before-and even some after.

Sirius looks surprised. "Oh, no. They were already older when they had James-he was a big surprise, from what they told me, so when they caught Dragon Pox, well…"

He looks so awkward that Harry wants to comfort _him._ Something catches his attention though.

"Wait, you said you were the firstborn?"

Sirius seems a bit relieved to move past the heavy moment and nods, pointing to a spot on the tree where the name _Regulus Black_ resided.

"Regulus was my younger brother-and certainly the better of us two, so said my mother often enough. He joined the Death Eaters."

"He didn't!"

"Yeah. My parents weren't in it themselves (which is surprising, really, given how much they agreed with Voldemort in the beginning, before things started to get bad) but they seemed to approve of him doing so. Greater standing in the world to them or something, I suppose."

The date of death on Regulus' branch made Harry wonder as well.

"Did he die to the Aurors or Order? I mean, ah." He says. "Sorry about the questions. I get if you're tired of them. Plus it's about your brother-"

Sirius shakes his head.

"No, it's fine." He tells Harry. "As fine as things can be. And anyway, you deserve to know. It's easy for others to forget that you've been stuck with Muggles who I'm sure have always told you the bare minimum."

"Except when they want me to do something." Harry quips.

Sirius barks out a laugh at that, shaking his head.

"Sounds about right. But no, Reg didn't die to the Aurors or Order. He was killed by Voldemort, or on his orders most like. People aren't allowed to regret anything and back out of the Death Eaters, which is what seemed to have happened."

: : : : :

But the subject gets a bit lighter when Harry notices some other surprising names on the branches.

"..of course the good ones get disowned and burned off of here. Probably why Kreacher doesn't want to listen to Tonks, even though he's supposed to listen to what anyone in the family tells him to do-"

"You and Tonks are related?"

"Mmhmm, through her mother. Andromeda was-is-the only good one, definitely my favorite cousin. A damn sight better than either of her sisters," He points at branches which say _Bellatrix and Narcissa._

"The Malfoy's too?" Harry asks, recognizing Narcissa's name even before he sees her connected branch with Lucius Malfoy (and Draco Malfoy underneath that.)

"Most of the pureblood families are interconnected in some way; a way to keep blood 'pure', which has caused a lot of connectivity, though not always so close. Like me and Molly Weasley are cousins by marriage and I'm related to Arthur; he's like my second cousin? Anyway you'll see a lot of that when it comes to purebloods, especially those deemed the more 'important' of the Sacred Twenty Eight."

Harry knew about the Sacred Twenty Eight a bit from both his reading this summer (the etiquette book while very, _very_ dry was useful) but mostly from Tom who went over the Sacred Twenty Eight and how they were considered the most important Wizarding families in all of Britain.

"And Bellatrix?"

"Married a Lestrange, as you can see. Both of them as nasty as they come; thank Merlin they never decided to procreate. At least Andromeda had a great child in Tonks."

"Narcissa Malfoy didn't exactly hit the lottery with Draco though."

Sirius laughs again. "Of course you'd say that; neither of you get along! But one can only hope it's just teenage things and nothing greater than that. Though considering who his parents are…"

Harry is keenly reminded of Lucius Malfoy in the graveyard and professes his loyalty to Tom who had been so recently resurrected. How much of that was real and how much of that was staged? After all, Lucius Malfoy had also openly dismissed his past and said he had been 'coerced.'

: : : : :

Dinner ended up being a surprising one with just him, Sirius and Lupin and Tonks. He hadn't seen the house elf of the house, Kreacher, yet but Sirius assured him he'd inevitably run into the skulking house elf, who was probably grumbling over some sort of Black family trinket that was worthless.

"Ron, Hermione and I'm sure a plethora of Weasley's," Sirius says to him, passing him some potatoes in a dish. They were all sitting at a surprisingly homey, if large, blue wooden table. "Will be coming soon. Tomorrow, I think? Or was it the next day, Moony?"

"You're supposed to remember these things, Sirius," Lupin scolds Sirius, though it's clearly in jest. "It's _your_ house."

"Ahh but that's why I have you! You're the brains. I'm just the pretty muscle." Sirius says, flexing an arm, causing Harry and Tonks both to laugh. Lupin merely rolls his eyes, holding back a smile.

"Then what am I?" Tonks asks, leaning forward, squinting her eyes at Sirius.

"Whatever you wanna be, Dora!" Sirius exclaims, waving around the fork in his hand which still had some bits of steak and potatoes attached to it. "I mean hell, look at you when you arrived back here earlier!"

"Oh, was your hair different earlier?" Harry asks Tonks, quickly taking a bite of food. He couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed a dinner so much. All of this reminded him of the fun times at Hogwarts with his schoolmates but also...more?

It reminded him of the times at the Burrow, watching the Weasley's interact with one another.

Reminded him of families.

"Hair, eyes," Sirius says, shrugging. "Chest-"

"Sirius!" Lupin exclaims.

"Uh-" Harry starts.

"Well it's true! Not like I was saying Dora was naked or anything!"

"Well even _so-"_

Sirius and Lupin continue bickering like that amongst themselves, leaving Harry to watch them bemused before Tonks catches his attention with a hand which waves at him.

A hand that now belonged to what was very much a _man_ looking back at him.

His eyes widened. He hadn't even considered that a possibility! Though to be fair, he still knew so little about Metamorphmagus'. He'd have to ask Tom later…

"Sorry if you're bothered." Tonks says, his voice deeper. He looked like a classically handsome man, sort of in the vein of Sirius, though his nose was a bit thinner and his hair was long and blond (though not as light as the Malfoys' blond) and his eyes were a dark blue, not grey. "Didn't know how to bring it up. Then Sirius had to go on and on about chests-"

"I didn't go _on and on!"_ Sirius protests.

"-so, figured the best way would be to just show you all at once." Tonks finished, ignoring Sirius.

"I'm not bothered." Honestly there were so much weirder things in the Wizarding World that Harry had already seen.

"But you have questions?" Tonks asks, raising a blond brow. "Well ask them then!"

"You...don't mind?"

"Nah I don't care," Tonks says, waving a careless hand around. "Maybe others might, but I'm used to it. And anyway, from what I gathered from what you said earlier, you don't know as much about our World. Plus Metamorphmagus are rare as it is."

"So are all Metamorphmagus the same?"

"Swapping around genders, you mean? Not all, no. At least from what I've seen. We're a rare bunch but I was lucky enough growing up to be around some. I'd say it's more of a mundane experience-despite the innate magic-than you'd expect, same as anyone else. It isn't because of the magic of it that some of us flit in and between genders, but our own personal experiences and realization that _that_ is who we are. Same as with Muggles."

Tonks shakes his head and Harry watches as the hair shortens and goes back to that shocking pink and once more the female version of Tonks is looking at him.

"Mind you, teenage years are hell on _anyone,"_ She says now, with a chuckle. "But being a hormone bomb when you have innate magic that transforms your body? Not easy. It's something you learn to control over time. It's as easy as breathing for me now, but it wasn't in the beginning. And I can only imagine how awkward it is for those who are cisgender as well, you know, identifying with the gender they were born with. Not easy for _any_ of us, cisgender or not! But you know, we get through it as best as we can."

"And it was worth the journey for me," She continues. "I'm happy with who I am. I know that's not something that everyone is lucky enough to be able to say, so I try my best to help those who are struggling."

She shrugs a bit then, looking a bit self conscious as they are all looking at her, but Harry can't help but admire her. It had to be very difficult for her growing up, despite how strong she looked about the whole situation now.

"But anyway! Enough of that heavy talk. The only heavy thing here should be our stomachs after eating all this good food!"

: : : : :

He misses Ron and Hermione but he also is keenly reminded of their distance in their letters and the like.

"That?" Sirius asks, when Harry brings it up after dinner. They were all now pleasantly full and sitting in the living room (with the painting of who turned out to be of Sirius' mother covered up now, barely heard over the heavy curtains), relaxing. "I wouldn't worry too much about that, Harry."

"I imagine it was much the same as what Sirius was told." Lupin says, after a glance at Sirius.

"Which is…?"

But Lupin doesn't respond, leaving Sirius to snort and shake his head, leaning forward from his position on one of the couches, to look down at Harry who was sitting on the floor near the (currently unlit) fireplace.

"Come on now, Remus." Sirius says, sounding, well, more serious than he had in an age, reminding Harry greatly of his letters before meeting up with him in that cave. "Harry is just as much a part of this as anyone else-more so than most, really."

"I know," Lupin says, brows furrowing, his scarred face moving into a frown. "But-"

"If it were you," Tonks says, to Lupin. "You would want to know, wouldn't you?"

"I get it," Sirius tells Lupin. "I'm not _completely_ daft, Moony. But he deserves to be in the know more than he is. That's it, isn't it, Harry? Being left out of things this summer?"

"Yes."

"Dumbledore worries about owls being intercepted." Lupin finally says. "After your...experience at the end of the Triwizard Cup."

He very carefully keeps any expression off of his face, to his best ability.

"Are the Death Eaters active then?" If so, he would be surprised. He had no reason to doubt Tom's assurance that they were not…

"Not that we can tell. Not like they were before." Tonks says, shrugging. "But no chances can be taken, I suppose."

"Not when it comes to The Boy-Who-Lived, you mean." He says, only somewhat bitterly.

"Yes."

"Has...anything else been going on?" He asks hesitantly.

Again, he had no reason to think so. But though Tom's words were law to the Death Eaters, at the same times, they were all people with their own wills and actions (he was keenly reminded of Lucius Malfoy with Tom's Diary in his second year, Pettigrew for all of these years and then Barty Crouch jr just a short while ago…)

"There's a lot going on." Tonks says. "With some details you don't need to know about."

"But if it's Death Eaters-"

"We're not sure if it's them or not." She says, shrugging again, her hair turning a mousy sort of brown as she does so. "You-Know-Who's group aren't the only bad ones out there; they're just the most well known right now."

: : : : :

" _They aren't active." Tom says, after the first thing Harry does upon joining him in the Dreamscape is to ask him about it. "I promised you, yes?"_

" _I know." Harry says immediately. "That wasn't what I meant by it. But Tom, if there were any stray people-"_

" _I have done my utmost best, dear one," Tom says, pushing away some of the hair in front of Harry's face with a surprisingly gentle hand. "To keep you safe, from the moment when things have Changed between us. But even I prevent every potential thing."_

" _What, even the fabled Dark Lord can't?" He quips. But he quickly grows serious as well. "I know that. I just, I worry."_

" _I feel it." Tom says, his hand moving to Harry's bare stomach, making him gasp (he had been clothed going to bed and thus had imagined himself the same in the Dreamscape, so Tom must have removed his shirt while he was distracted!) "Your worry. But it's...odd. You're-worried. You're worried for me."_

" _Worried for you." Harry whispers._

" _I am safe," Tom says. "As safe as anything can be right now. Until when I can see you again. Why do you worry about me?"_

" _Doesn't everyone worry about the things they care about?" Harry asks, hoarsely._

_Tom looks at him for a long, long moment, before leaning in suddenly, capturing his lips with his own._

: : : : :

While Hermione and a plethora of Weasley's were on their way to show up the next afternoon, Harry's in the middle of spraying a Doxy with some Doxycide, as Sirius and Tonks are in the middle of a fun spray war, trying to get the most Doxy's, while Lupin had been looking at them all with an exasperated look and a smile on his face as he bagged up the fainted Doxy's (Doxy's were pests and could infest homes and considering 12 Grimmauld Place had been empty-save for Kreacher-for many years, it hadn't been surprised, so Sirius had said, that they had taken up residence.)

"A bit sad I never got to these in Lessons," Lupin says, as he scoops up the Doxy that Harry had sprayed into his bag. "But I knew I was on borrowed time as it was." He glances at Harry, his small smile widening a bit. "And I wanted to give all of you as much of the best and interesting things I could while I was there."

"You were the best teacher we had." Harry tells him earnestly.

"You don't need to flatter an old man like me, Harry. But thank you."

"Not flattering if it's the _truth,_ Moony." Sirius says from across the room. He gives Tonks a triumphant look as he manages to take down two at once with a single spray, hardly giving them a glance while he puts them into his own bag with a flick of his wand. "And even if it is? You're amazing. Hell, the amount of work you put in during our school days _alone..._ doubt me and James would have graduated without you, James being Head Boy or not."

"All the Detentions, I bet." Tonks teases, her hair a spiky blonde today.

"If not for one set of Weasley twins, Fred and George," Lupin says with a chuckle. "I think your record of detentions from Filch alone would be unmatched."

"Well not _my_ fault he can't take a joke! Who knew that skin wasn't supposed to make contact with those potion bombs?"

"I've never seen a striped and polka dotted man before. That was _certainly_ new-"

: : : : :

He honestly isn't sure how to feel when more people start to arrive at the house. He had gotten so used it to being just the core group of him, Lupin, Sirius, and Tonks (well and Kreacher too technically, but a muttering House Elf giving them all glares all the time wasn't exactly welcoming) over these past few days and it had been some of the most fun he had probably...ever.

Lupin had managed to soften around the edges a bit when it came to being more serious and lecturing, which, really, wasn't hard _not_ to, given Sirius and Tonks' general natures. But on the flip side Lupin had helped Sirius and Tonks both be more serious (no pun intended) in more places they needed to be.

On the other hand, Harry was also happy to see Ron and Hermione again. Those letters had done little to make him feel better, especially after what had happened at the end of Term (some of which held new meaning in Harry's eyes now and something which he had to really try and figure out.)

"Harry!"

And instantly he's engulfed by Ron and Hermione (and what looked like Fred and George as well but it was hard to tell over Hermione's bushy brown hair and really just Ron-he seemed to have gotten even taller over this short while!)

"Let poor Harry breathe, you lot!" Mrs. Weasley tells them.

He lets out a huffing laugh as they do so, shaking his head.

"It's no worry." Harry says. "Just glad to see you."

"How have you been, Harry?" Ron asks. "We've been wanting to-"

"Could you perhaps have your _Tête-à-tête_ somewhere that isn't right in front of the doorway?" drawls a voice behind them.

Snape gives them all an unimpressed brow raise with an even more unimpressed look beneath.

"Well?"

"Come now, Severus." A voice behind _him_ says. "Friends seeing each other after a long period is always a joyous occasion."

"Plus it's not like you're staying for long, Snivellus." Sirius sneers.

"Sirius." Lupin says.

Sirius snorts and walks off, heading off towards the room before the kitchen, which they had all been fixing up as the Order was to be using that for their meetings (so said Lupin.) Snape sneers at Sirius' retreating form, but follows all the same. Harry has a little jolt seeing Dumbledore there. He hadn't seen the Headmaster since the end of term and he felt conflicting feelings seeing him.

_Did you know how the Dursley's are? What are your plans going on with Tom right now? With ME?_

Dumbledore smiles and nods at them all-except no, he doesn't look at Harry. He waves a hand but doesn't look at him. Weird.

Other Order members (including Kingsley Shacklebolt and Moody-whose magical eye was swirling around everywhere in its socket) follow suit behind the Headmaster.

"Quick, before mum decides to get us to get us to clean up or something." Ron says.

: : : : :

"Alright. Out with it then!" Ron exclaims dramatically, laying back on one of the beds in the room Harry had been staying in.

"Out with…?"

"We know you have to be mad, Harry." Hermione says, a bit nervously, sitting on one of the other beds. "We didn't want to leave you in the dark."

"But Dumbledore?"

"Well, yes." She says. "But with what's happened since the end of term and-have you been getting the _Daily Prophet?"_

"I've been skimming through them," He admits, sitting on the last bed in the room. "Especially in the beginning of Summer, but…"

He shrugs, trailing off. Not like he could say _but then I started talking-and er, MORE-with Tom…_

"I really thought they'd say more about me. Not that I want them to of course," He adds hastily. "But I really expected them to."

"We thought the same thing!" Ron exclaims, sitting up. He runs a hand through his shock of red hair. "Me and Hermione have been trying to figure that bit out."

" _Hermione and I,_ Ro-oh well," She sighs. "And yes we have. I'm sure we all remember how Fudge was acting at the end there."

"Poor Barty Crouch." Harry says. Ron and Hermione give him shocked looks. "I know what happened! I mean I was the one _dealing_ with all that in the end, but...someone losing their _soul?_ Everything just...ended like that."

He absently rubs at his chest, feeling a twinge that felt like it was coming from far away.

"But why do you think Fudge isn't talking then?" Harry asks. "He wasn't happy with me _or_ Dumbledore…"

It _couldn't_ be what he was thinking, was it?

Could _Tom_ have…?

: : : : :

The ice crackles underneath his boots as he walks, but he takes no notice of the cold, nor does he feel it.

His robes move sharply behind him in the deep cold wind, rustling his hair in its breeze.

He had not felt this way, this _alive_ in ages. And certainly some of these complex feelings in him, which he still had to take apart and figure out, he had never felt before.

Great wards of magic, of all sorts of colors and shapes to his eyes are pushed aside or ignored with a wave of his hand, the magic bending to his will.

A great tower, thin and proud, stood before him, towering even over the great mountains that sat beside and behind it.

There are no gates, Muggle made or otherwise, just a deceptively simple door to the front of the tower.

He looks up at the spiral of nearly endless looking stairs and smiles, his grin only widening after he takes flight, that special feeling of going through the air on nothing more than himself and his magic, bolstered by it, the air nearly cutting as he quickly moves up and up and _up_ the tower.

But his magic is immense and it holds as he arrives on the top floor.

The door is even more deceptively simple looking, but he knows not to take it lightly; he can _feel_ the magic radiating off of it. It takes a few moments-more than he would like to admit to (for his pride is still great. He is, after all, who he is) but it still falls eventually, with its Caster hopefully none the wiser.

He swings the door open with a small bit of magic and walks confidently inside.

The inside is very small, dingy, with a tiny bed and a pencil thin window.

"Albus?" A surprisingly melodic voice asks from the dark. "So soon? If your precious Order heard about that you'd-no. I see. You're not Albus. Who are you?"

A thin form leans forward on the small bed, with bright eyes, despite his thin body, with faded gold hair.

"I am Lord Voldemort."

Tom takes a step forward, conjuring himself a chair, closing the door behind him with a flick of his wand as he sits down.

"Now tell me, Gellert Grindelwald; what do you know about Soul Magic?"

He smiles.

: : : : :


End file.
